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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757550">safekeeping</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator'>electronic_elevator</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>markiplier - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ABDL, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, POV Second Person, baby!Actor, bottle feeding, cg!switch!Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:33:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Actor is littler than he's ever been with you, which didn't seem to have been planned. You're enraptured, and do your best to take care of him and keep him feeling safe and loved. // Written October 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Actor Mark/Reader - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>safekeeping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh, so, this is technically a continuation of something I haven’t posted. Background information, then, is that the Actor wasn’t so comfortable being little around his s/o (who is the reader POV character) for a long while. This is very much worked up to, then; they started with being little together, then eventually Mark started to let them take care of him; this is, say, several months after that</p>
<p>This is so very self indulgent.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You’d really thought that nothing would top the warmth in your heart that you’d felt the first time that Mark had, on a day he was feeling small, asked if you would want to take care of him — the first time he’d felt comfortable enough to allow you to try that. You’d been so honored, and so full of love. </p>
<p>Now, though, you’d insist nothing could match the absolute radiance you were feeling with Mark so relaxed and comfortable and <i>tiny</i> cuddled on your lap. </p>
<p>You’d been in the playroom, as usual, but he was much younger than he’d ever been with you before, so his usual toys and things stayed up on the shelves. It was lucky that you’d found a box of baby toys in one of the cabinets weeks ago; today, you got for him things like teething rings and bright plastic keys and a little square of blanket where the corners had all different textured fabrics — oh, and the rattle that used to be yours — and sat with him on the play carpet, catching his eye with pretty colors and sounds from the toys and cooing at him, praising him whenever he did… well, much of anything. He wasn’t really talking, but he’d make happy sounds back at you. The times you’d coaxed carefree, delighted laughs out of him as you played were maybe the highlights of your week, if not your whole month. </p>
<p>After a couple of hours, though, you started to worry he was hungry. You’d made sure he had water, prompting him to take sips of it to make sure he wouldn’t get thirsty, but he hadn’t even had dinner and it was getting a little late. </p>
<p>Since the two of you had been using the playroom more, one of the cabinets had been designated “the pantry” so you wouldn’t have to leave for snacks. …But he was so small. You didn’t have any <i>baby</i>-baby food — down here, <i>or</i> upstairs. And… truthfully, you really wanted to feed him a bottle. That wasn’t a <i>meal,</i> though…</p>
<p>Suddenly, you remembered you had protein powder. It should work pretty well!</p>
<p>You smoothed back his hair, and he looked up at you with a small noise of protest and a question in his eyes. “Is my baby hungry? Does my baby want a bottle?” He looked interested, and set the toy down, but still didn’t speak. “I bet you want some nice warm milk, does that sound nice?” Yeah, he was certainly interested, and crawled closer to you, but you had to stop him with a gentle hand on his back. You were going to have to run upstairs to make it for him, and as much as you hated to leave him, it would be easier than dragging him along with you. “I need you to be my very good boy, alright? Can you do that?” Fear pulled his face into a frown, and he grabbed onto your arm with a whimper. </p>
<p>You settled even closer to him, stroking his face gently. You really didn’t want to leave him for even a second — especially not when he was so small, and especially not when you knew a part of him was still worried you’d reject him. A part of him <i>always</i> worried about you leaving him. “You must be hungry, little love…” you murmured. “I need to go make your bottle, and you know I can’t pick you up, so you have to sit right here. I know you can do it — you’re my brave, good boy. I’ll be right back, as quick as I can, to look after you.” You kissed his head. “Here you go, dearest. Here’s your toy back. You can keep playing for just a few minutes, and when I get back, you’ll have your bottle. Can you do that for me?” </p>
<p>He looked still looked unsure, but he took the toy from you, thus releasing your arm. “Very good, little one,” you praised, pressing one last kiss to his head. </p>
<p>You stood, and he didn’t cry, although he looked sad enough to, and your heart was about to break but you smiled gently at him and walked calmly out of the room.</p>
<p>Once the nursery door was closed, you <i>ran.</i> Kitchen, milk, shake mix; shake, mixed. At first, there was a bit of an aftertaste — so add a splash of vanilla, splash of sugar — then it was quite good, although perhaps typically unsuitable for dinnertime. You shook it up again for good measure, then heated it in the microwave — the quickest option. You filled up his bottle, or the one you’d selected, and ran back downstairs, slowing just to open the door. </p>
<p>Mark had stayed where you left him, but upon seeing you smiled brightly, cooing happily. He cast the toy aside again and started to crawl towards you. </p>
<p>“Mark! I told you I’d go as quick as I could.” You, slightly breathless, walked to meet him, and he leaned back on his knees and made grabby-hands up at you. You balanced the bottle in the crook of your arm, taking both his hands in yours. “Up! And you can have your bottle.” You pulled him to his feet. “Good job, baby!” you praised, receiving another happy smile in return. </p>
<p>He tried to reach for the bottle, but you tugged him over to the rocking chair. “We’re going to sit down here, okay? Hang on.” You set the bottle down, and sat down yourself, then patted your lap softly. “Come here, dearest one.” </p>
<p>Mark looked a little shy, shuffling on the soft carpet, but after that hesitation he came to you. You had to help him up in a shuffling of limbs and a settling together. His legs hung over one arm rest, and he curled towards you, supported by your other arm… a soft, warm weight on your lap. He seemed comfortable, and he was looking at you with wonder and love. It made you feel… a lot, but a little worried about failing him.</p>
<p>You shifted to pick up the bottle, unconsciously curling him even closer to you when you straightened back up. More quietly than you even intended, you instructed, “Drink up, baby,” as you held the bottle close to his lips. He latched onto it and made a pleased sound when the milk hit his tongue. He hadn’t been expecting the sweet taste, and he clearly liked it, as he drank readily. “What a good boy,” you praised, gently petting at the back of his hair. You saw him smile, even though he somewhat shyly turned his head into your shoulder; he kept sucking at the bottle, perhaps for the taste but perhaps to be good for you. After a bit, though, you put a hand up to gently tug the bottle from his mouth. He fussed, trying to lean after it with a noise of protest. “My sweet boy, we don’t want you to get a tummy ache! Settle back, there, that’s it.” You patted his tummy very lightly to emphasize your point. You rocked back and forth at a slow, steady pace, humming softly. After a few moments, you brought the bottle back to his lips. This time, he didn’t take it from you, but curled one hand loosely over yours as he drank more. You kept humming — a nothing-tune that danced its way through numerous songs and riffs there-off. </p>
<p>It was calm, and it was so comfortable. You felt more at peace than you had in ages; the only thing resembling a concern on your radar was making sure Mark got enough to eat  but not too quickly. He was your whole world, at the moment.</p>
<p>Eventually, he finished up the bottle, and you took it from him and set it down. “Good boy, Mark, you finished your whole bottle!” you praised. “Was it yummy? I hope it was yummy.” You kissed his head, and rocked silently for a few moments. “My Marki… I love you so much, do you know that?” Mark nodded and squirmed just a bit, but you settled him with another kiss. “You’re so special… I’m so lucky to have you, Mark. So lucky I get to take care of you like this.” As you talked, softly murmuring things that were so true but that you never said often enough, his eyes filled with tears. As soon as you noticed, you paused. “Oh, no, little love… what’s wrong?” He fussed again, grabbing for you. You tried to shift him upright, and he maneuvered so his legs slipped through the bars of the rocking chair on either side of you, letting him lay against your chest. A glance back showed the chair was just tall enough that, while sitting on your lap, his feet didn’t touch the floor even when you rocked backwards again (carefully, to make sure he wasn’t in danger of getting hurt like this). With a sniffle, he just cuddled close to you and hid his face in your neck. You still weren’t sure what had upset him, so you slipped a hand down to check his diaper. He was still dry, so that wasn’t it. “Dearest, what’s wrong? How can I make it all better?” you whispered. He still didn’t answer, but he was growing calmer rather than more upset. Maybe he’d been uncomfortable in the old position. You held one hand on the back of his head, softly. The other alternated between rubbing and patting his back gently. Other than his hands loosely gripping your shirt fabric, he relaxed again, just laying against you. You realized he’d probably just been a little overwhelmed. After all, sharing this was still new to him, and you were all too aware that his past experiences hadn’t been so good. Your heart melted. “It’s okay,” you cooed. “It’s okay, baby… you’re safe here.” You simply rocked him, holding him close to you, for a long time.</p>
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